An Invitation to Sin(19)

But it wasn't and her excitement turned to sick panic as she read the words on the screen.

Her hands grew clammy and her phone almost slid from her fingers.

She wanted to hurl it off the cliff, as if that simple gesture might cut  her off from her past and keep her safe. But she knew there was no  point. Whatever she did, her past would always haunt her. He would  always haunt her.

‘Trouble?' Luca was watching her and she tried desperately to pull herself together.

‘No.' She shut off her phone and slipped it back into her bag.

‘For an actress, you're a terrible liar.'

She knew she wasn't a terrible liar but she was fast discovering that  Luca Corretti, for all his reputation as a shallow playboy, was sharp as  a razor. ‘I'm not lying. Just tired. I wish the press would disappear.'

‘You care too much about what people think.'

‘You have no idea what it's like.' The lump in her throat appeared from  nowhere. ‘No idea what it's like having cameras filming your every move  from your first step to your first boyfriend. No idea what it's like to  be betrayed by the people closest to you-people who are supposed to care  about you and love you-and no idea how it feels to wake up and realise  the only person in the world you can trust is yourself.' Her outburst  shocked her almost as much as it clearly shocked him.

Taylor sat there, wondering how to pull back the words and recover the  situation. She was usually so good at hiding her feelings but from the  first moment she'd met Luca Corretti those feelings had been perilously  close to the surface.

‘Sorry.' Her voice was husky. ‘Ignore me. It's been a difficult few days for me and today has been the most difficult of all.'

‘Why are you apologising? For once, you were honest about your  feelings.' Luca stared straight ahead, sunglasses hiding his eyes. Then  he turned to look at her and when he spoke there was no trace of his  usual humour. ‘We should go. Do you want me to drive?'

‘No.' She was grateful to him for not delving further but of course he  wouldn't, would he? That sort of confession probably came under the  heading of ‘emotional depth' and Luca Corretti was a man who avoided  ‘emotional depth' at all costs.

He was no doubt already trying to find ways to ease himself out of their  ‘fake' engagement because who would want to be engaged to someone as  messed up as her?

It took another ten minutes to get back to Luca's house and, as the car  purred through the security gates, she spotted cameras and two security  guards.

‘You say you're not worried about the press but you have very high-level security.'

‘That's to protect me from all the women I've upset. and all the ones I  haven't yet upset, but probably will in the future.' He was back to his  normal self, his tone smooth and bored, and was relieved he clearly  didn't intend to question her further about her past.

‘I would have thought you needed an army for that.'

‘Fortunately for me I now have a fiancée.' The tyres crunched on the  gravel and he sprang from the car and opened the door for her in an  old-fashioned gesture that surprised her. ‘I hate the word, but the  institution might prove more useful than I could ever have imagined.'

‘So now you're using me as a female defence system?'

‘Something like that.' He relieved her of the car keys. ‘You drive well for a woman.'

‘That is so patronising. If I'd known you were going to say something  like that I would have wrapped your precious Ferrari round a lamppost.'

The banter felt so much more comfortable than confidences but just being  with him unsettled her. She was used to spending her time around  ridiculously attractive men-men who spent their days working on their  physique, men who spent a considerable time in front of the mirror, none  of whom tempted her. Luca was different. He was spectacularly handsome,  that was true, his Sicilian bloodline evident in his darkly brooding  features and his volatile personality, but for her the attraction lay  deeper. She was drawn to his self-confidence, his lack of  pretentiousness and, most of all, his innate honesty. Luca Corretti  didn't waste time putting a barrier between himself and the world and if  they came too close, he simply shrugged.                       
       
           



       

As his arm brushed against hers she felt sensation flutter across her  skin and float through her body. She was tall but he was significantly  taller, much taller than her current leading man, who needed heel lifts  and clever camera angles to increase his height. Luca needed no such  help.

It was only as he closed the bedroom door behind them that she realised they hadn't discussed this part of their arrangement.

‘Where am I sleeping?'

‘In my bed, where all good fiancée's sleep.'

Keeping her expression in place she dropped her purse on the soft white  sofa. She realised that she was exhausted. She hadn't slept well since  hearing the film role was hers and now wouldn't sleep until she knew she  hadn't lost it. ‘I will sleep in your bed, but not if you're in it.'

‘Sleeping apart is not one of the habits of happily engaged couples.'

‘Unless you're expecting hoards of slavering women to break into your  room tonight, I assume we're not going to have an audience for the next  part of our deception?'

‘We might. It would strengthen our story if Geovana deserves to hear you moaning with pleasure as she walks past the door.'

‘I'm not a moaner.'

He smiled as he undid the buttons of his shirt. ‘You'd moan if you were with me, bellissima.'

‘Sure of yourself, aren't you?'

‘I've never subscribed to the benefits of false modesty. I can have you  moaning in under thirty seconds. Want to try it out? Practice the  scene?'

Her heart was pounding. ‘I don't need to practice. I'm a one-take  wonder. And the only way I'd moan is if it was written into the script.'  Her mouth dried as he shrugged off the shirt, revealing bronzed  shoulders and muscles that could have featured in an action movie. The  hardness of his physique contrasted with the effortless elegance of his  clothes and she clenched her jaw and dismissed the thought that he was  better looking than any of the actors she'd worked with.

‘Admit it.' Fully aware of her scrutiny, he dropped the shirt over the  back of the nearest chair. ‘You can't stop thinking about that kiss.'

‘What kiss?'

He smiled. ‘How does it feel to spend your life pretending to be someone you're not? Uncomfortable? Frustrating?'

‘I'm not pretending. This is who I am.'

The smile faded and this time when he looked at her there was no sign of  the flippant playboy. ‘No. You present the world with a plastic,  perfect version of yourself. No flaws. You show the person you think the  world wants to see, not the real you. Maybe that's what some men want,  but not me.' The hardness of his tone surprised her and she took a step  backwards, wondering what had triggered that response.

‘But this isn't real so what you want is of no relevance.'

‘If I'm expected to spend time with you then it's going to be with the  real you. The real you is the woman who was with me in the maze. That  woman interests me extremely. Any chance she could come out and play?'  His tone had lightened again but it was too late because already there  was an electric tension in the atmosphere.

She was so aware of him, almost blinded by the raw sexuality that  radiated from every throbbing, muscular inch of his powerful frame. From  that silky dark hair to those moody black eyes, he was all man. And the  most dangerous thing of all was that, somehow, he knew her. Not the  public her that she'd created, but the real her. ‘That woman is a  figment of your imagination.'

‘You had your hands on me. My imagination had nothing to do with it.'

‘You had your hands on me first.'

‘I never said it wasn't mutual.' Those eyes were dark as night, seeing everything she was hiding.

‘It isn't mutual.'

‘Sweetheart, you should know that I have a highly competitive nature and you're tempting me to prove it.'

‘No.' She looked away from him, trying to snap the connection. Trying to  pull together the torn threads of her protection. ‘It was just a kiss. A  badly timed kiss as it turns out.'

‘Maybe not. We're here because of that kiss.'

‘Precisely!'

Without warning he slid his hand behind her neck and drew her towards  him. ‘Once again we see things differently. You see this as a bad thing,  but because of this situation I finally have the board listening to me  and you-'

‘I'm on a film that currently has no director.' His mouth was so close to hers she was afraid to breathe. ‘How is that good?'

His phone buzzed and he paused, his eyes locked on hers.